*ahem*...hi.
I know. I KNOW. It's been two and a half months since I posted anything for real. What can I say. Now that I am officially finished my first year of teaching as a university professor (giant, teetering pile of marking notwithstanding)--I find I have a minute to unclench a little and think about returning to my neglected corner of the internet. I've been fairly ridiculously busy, in addition to teaching, I've been offered and accepted a position in a PhD program in a town not far from where I am now. It means moving nearly an hour away from the city I am in...a city I have lived in for 13 years...over half my life. My parents no longer live here, but my brother and his family do.
I am surprisingly unperturbed about moving. This is likely due to my childhood. I may have lived here for the last 13 years, but for the twelve years prior to that, my parents moved us nearly every other year, bouncing from one end of the province to the other as they worked for, and eventually found, the immigrant's dream of middle class comfort. While I hate the process of moving, the actual nitty gritty of finding boxes and wrapping things and finding an apartment...I am actually excited about being somewhere new, meeting new people, finding my way...I think.
Or maybe I'm not unperturbed because I have, in the intervening months since last I wrote, procured a second job which means I have easy access to all the cardboard boxes my heart desires. In addition to being a learned member of the academy (snork!)...and because of the ridiculously small salary I earn from that lofty position, I have taken a second position as a bartender at a bar on campus. It's not as bad as it sounds, it's a private bar--for faculty and grad students only. I am not charged with serving my undergraduate students. Like other facets of my life, I am nearly ridiculously diligent at this task. It is a laid back pub, serving mostly one of a couple dozen draft beer and various single malt scotches to socially inept and jaded graduate students.
Still, I am careful in my tasks. I pull Guiness very slowly, and Stella Artois very patiently and Foster's with my nose haughtily stuck in the air (It's Australian for piss I believe). I am friendly to those drinking Aberlour and Laphroaig, slightly dismissive of those drinking Bell's, and have only snickered outright once at a poor misguided soul who thought they would make time with me by capitalizing on my Caribbean heritage by ordering Malibu Rum.
For those not in the know...proudly telling someone from the Caribbean that they love the brackish, coconut flavoured Malibu Rum is like telling someone Swiss that they love Switzerland and show their affection by eating Toblerone by the dozen, or telling a Brit that they show their loyalty to the crown by wearing a giant felt Union Jack hat...or buying Spice Girls cds. Malibu Rum is a noxious concoction never consumed by any self respecting rum drinker, or person from the Caribbean, it immediately brings to mind images of burnt, blistery, bloated, and brightly coloured cruise ship travellers looking for brightly coloured trinkets and cheap weed on their 'cultural vacation'.
So in short, I am busy, but back. I smell of beer and Spring sunshine and do not respond well to people who neither tip nor drink good liquor.
Off for now....am I in your good books now Dick?
9:52:32 PM 
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